


Leave Normal For The Joneses

by the_gramophone



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Domesticity, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, TSN week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:37:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_gramophone/pseuds/the_gramophone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Mark and Eduardo have a finely-honed routine. It works for them. But one day Mark wakes up to find that things are different, and he doesn't like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave Normal For The Joneses

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for TSN Week for the prompt Domesticity. 
> 
> Many many thanks and hugs and warm fluffy feels to my lovely beta Sarah, who puts up with a lot for me. A girl couldn't ask for any better.

The thing is, they have a routine. It’s pretty much set in stone and Mark likes it that way. He takes a decided comfort from the knowledge that he wakes up and Eduardo is there and they eat dinner and Eduardo is there and when he goes to bed, Eduardo is already curled up around him, fast asleep and making these content little whuffing noises. 

A day goes like this. 

In the morning Eduardo wakes up first because somehow he’s a morning person, which, whatever. He goes downstairs and reads the paper while eating breakfast and Mark ignores him in favor of sleep. After about half an hour Eduardo comes back and, depending on his mood, will either flip the covers off Mark and push him out of bed, or curl around him and slide a sneaky hand into his boxers. Either way at this point Mark is going to be late, but he infinitely prefers the second. 

Eduardo gets in the shower and Mark shuffles downstairs to make coffee for Eduardo and eat a preselected fruit. Eduardo has this whole thing, like, he is fanatical about Mark eating fruits and vegetables. Sometimes Mark skips them in the morning, just because, and he would swear to any available God that Eduardo _knew,_ he just stood there and glared at him until he fished the grapefruit out of the fridge. Mark puts up with this because Eduardo is strangely obsessed with Mark’s health, like he actually thinks Mark might die of scurvy or something. Mark made a joke once, about just letting nature take its course, and Eduardo’s face sort of crumpled in and got all lined and _devastated_ – Mark ended up blowing him against their state-of-the-art stainless steel refrigerator as an apology and has never brought it up again. 

Mark will make his way into work about an hour or two late, which he figures is fine because he definitely logs more overall hours in this place than most other people combined. He spends a good part of the day yelling at Dustin or being yelled at by Chris, and there’s far less time coding than he’d like. He sits through meetings only half-listening and blatantly texting Eduardo to see if he’s doing anything more interesting. His secretary, Sarah, bullies him into eating a salad with his burger at lunch, and Mark can’t figure out if she’s been compromised by Chris or Eduardo. 

Mark gets out of the office later than everyone else, because he has some pride, okay, and he can’t just turn off his compulsive need to check and double check everything that other people are doing to his website. But he gets home earlier than he would have before, and Eduardo will be waiting for him. Sometimes they order in, or Eduardo will have made dinner while he was waiting. Occasionally Mark will do the cooking because his mother insisted he learn, and they go about their evening business before ending the day fucking into the mattress, or the couch, or against the wall. Really whatever’s closest, although Mark deeply regrets that one time they had attempted to fuck in the new hammock that Eduardo had set up in the backyard. It flipped over not one thrust in, leaving them very sore, and their neighbors – a nice couple with several young children – still won’t talk to them. 

*

It is on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday in the fall that things are different. Mark wakes to a piercing, incessant beeping, and glares around blearily before realizing that the sound is coming from his clock. Having never actually used the clock before, preferring to be nudged into wakefulness by Eduardo, he is confused for just a moment before punching it off the table and stumbling downstairs. 

Eduardo walks down the stairs just a minute later, already dressed and checking his phone as he scoots around the island to walk toward Mark. 

“Should I ask why your clock is making the sad noises of a dying animal?” he asks, still checking his phone. 

Mark leans against the counter. “Why was my clock making any noise?” he asks mildly. 

Eduardo looks confused. “Because it’s an alarm clock?” 

“Yes, I got that,” Mark rolls his eyes. “But we don’t use it. “

Eduardo shifts awkwardly, suddenly focusing on his phone again. “I set it for you.” 

“You did.”

“Mm-hmm.” 

Mark waits for more, an explanation perhaps, but Eduardo continues to frown at his phone. He sighs and turns back to the coffeemaker. “I just started the coffee. It should be a few more minutes.”

Eduardo glances up. “That’s okay. I’m in a hurry this morning; I’ll pick it up on the way.” He darts forward and presses a quick kiss to Mark’s cheek. “I’ll see you later, hm?”

The day is pretty straightforward, Eduardo’s strange behavior that morning aside. He spends a good part of the day in meetings to go over their stock interests, which he has no interest in, so he makes Sarah sit in and take notes while he plays Words With Friends with Dustin. He tries sneaking out to his office once during a break but is almost immediately caught by Chris and manhandled back into his chair. Mark texts Eduardo about the injustice, but gets a vague, distracted sort of answer nearly an hour later and doesn’t bother trying again. 

Mark’s been home nearly an hour when the phone rings. 

“Hey, _querido,_ ” Eduardo says, breathless. 

“Hey,” Mark replies as he stirs his pot of rice on the stove. He had gotten out of work relatively early that day and decided to surprise Eduardo with attempting to make another Brazilian dish. He does this about once a month or so, and they all fail spectacularly, but it makes Eduardo look sort of soft and fond and he’s always so _pleased_ that Mark keeps trying. 

“Something came up,” Eduardo says all in a rush, like he has to get it out fast. “A meeting with some clients, last minute. I won’t be home for a few more hours. Maybe later.”

Mark frowns. “That late?”

There’s a heavy sigh from the other end. “Yeah, I’m sorry. They just got in town, it’s really important.”

Mark finds himself shrugging as he turns off the stove, although he knows Eduardo can’t see him. “It’s fine, Wardo.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Love you! I’m really sorry!”

The line goes dead and Mark turns to dump the pot down the disposal. 

The next morning is much the same, which is, not the same at all and actually sort of shitty, only Mark broke his alarm yesterday so today he really does oversleep. He wakes to the ghost of a kiss on his forehead and the sound of a door slamming downstairs, and sits up with a start. 

The house is empty when he makes his way downstairs. The coffee pot has been rinsed out and is sitting in the sink and there is an apple sitting on the island, next to a notepad. 

_M,_ it says,  
_I completely forgot I had a breakfast meeting this morning. Didn’t want to wake you. Have a good day!  
Love, E_

Mark scowls darkly at the paper, and stomps upstairs to get dressed. When he gets to the office, Dustin is sitting in his chair with his feet tucked underneath him and his head down, twirling around and around. 

“Chris has been looking for you,” he says without stopping. 

“Get the hell out of my chair before you vomit on my desk again,” Mark snaps, slinging his bag on the floor. 

Dustin skids to a stop and wobbles, looking mildly alarmed before planting his hands on the desk and breathing deeply. “That was one time,” he says petulantly and hops up. 

“Three,” Mark says as he shuffles past him to reclaim his desk. He flicks on the power button on his Mac and pretends to be fascinated by his computer coming to life so as to ignore Dustin perching on his desk, peering at him. 

He lasts less than a minute. “What, Dustin?”

“You’re strangely cranky today. All sourpuss-faced and grumpy gills.”

“You should have been a character on Sesame Street,” Mark interjects. 

“What’s the matter, my sweet leader?” Dustin asks, dripping with faux sympathy and rubbing soothing circles on Mark’s shoulder. Mark swats him away. “Is the beauteous Eduardo giving you domestic troubles?”

Mark stiffens and goes red before reaching a hand out to push Dustin off his desk. Satisfyingly, Dustin goes down with a loud squawk before landing in a heap on the floor. 

“You could have just said so!” he yelps indignantly. 

“Get out, Dustin,” Mark says shortly as he scans through his email. 

Dustin straightens and rests his arms on his legs as he stares at Mark. “I wouldn’t have said, you know – I mean, I didn’t know …”

“Yeah, I know,” Mark sighs. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Mark snorts. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Dustin nods. “Okay. I’ll just go back to my desk then.” He gets up slowly, eyes boring into the side of Mark’s head as if he’s trying to pry the answers away through sheer force of will. Mark does his best to ignore him. 

Mark fails. 

“He’s been weird the past few days. It’s like he’s trying to spend as little time at home as possible and when he is there he’s distant.” Mark stares at his keyboard as he runs the string of his hoodie over his lip. “He’s upset about something; I know he is, I just don’t know what.” 

Mark’s stomach clenches uncomfortably and heat pricks behind his eyes as he considers the situation. He knows he’s as happy as he’s ever going to get. He briefly contemplates the possibility of losing Eduardo again, and the pain is too great to pursue further. It was one thing the first time, when they were young and proud and too stupid to acknowledge the other’s point. He had been heartsick in love at the time but he buried it in code and got through it. If Eduardo were to leave now, Mark isn’t sure what it would do to him, but he doubts he would retain the ability to function as a normal human being. Obviously they fight, because come on, they’re a normal couple and they live together and Mark knows he’s a handful, but when they fight, they _fight_. They scream and yell and say hurtful things and then pout for a few hours on opposite ends of the house before coming back to talk it through rationally and have some phenomenal make-up sex. It’s an excellent system. 

Dustin squeezes his shoulder and leaves the room to give him time to reflect in peace and Mark is deeply thankful that beneath all of Dustin’s cartoon character bullshit, there’s a caring person. 

*

It’s not a good day. He makes three interns cry, and one board member. He throws his salad at Sarah’s head, which she very calmly picks up and leaves, but he’s positive that one’s going to come back to bite him in the ass. Sean calls him from a jail in Portugal and Mark hangs up on him, half-hoping he’ll have to rot there so someone else can suffer like he is. By five, Sarah is standing in front of his desk with a determined expression on her face and Chris is hovering right outside the door. 

“You are going to get out, go home, and get yourself together,” she says firmly, holding his backpack in front of her. “You are going to get out of this office before I have Mr. Hughes throw you out because we have a lot of damage control to do and we can’t work on it if you’re here creating more.”

Mark glares at her. He can’t for the life of him remember why she had come so highly recommended, or why he’s kept her on and given her regular raises for the past six years. “This is my company,” he says. 

“Then let us help you not run it into the ground every time you’re having a bad day, Mark,” she snaps back and grabs one of his arms and begins tugging him out of the car. “Go fix your life. I will take care of things here.”

“You’re fired,” Mark tells her. 

“Tough,” she says unsympathetically and shoves his bag in his arms. _“Go.”_

Out of sheer obstinacy, Mark goes straight to the nearest coffee shop and sends emails to Dustin and Chris every ten minutes of everything they need to remember to take care of before they go home. After an hour an angry Sarah appears in the doorway of the shop and Mark flees out the back door. 

By the time he gets home, Eduardo is waiting for him in the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he says guiltily as Mark walks in. “It was important.” 

“It’s fine,” Mark says stonily. He walks into the living room and throws his bag down on the sofa while Eduardo trails after him. 

“No, it wasn’t fine! It’s just, I woke up in a panic, and I was in such a hurry, and I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye but I thought you’d understand…”

Mark turns around. Eduardo is standing a careful two feet away, plenty of room for Mark to escape if he wants to, and his hands tucked sheepishly in his pockets, and fuck he can’t really stay mad at him even though he kind of really wants to. He gives a small smile. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “Really. I get it.”

Eduardo smiles, slow and hopeful. “Yeah? We’re okay?”

Mark snorts. “Of course we are, God,” and he tugs Eduardo in by the hem of his dress shirt to press flush against him. Eduardo beams down at him and Mark doesn’t even think about anything from the past few days. He can’t help himself even though part of him thinks maybe they need to talk more; it’s like his body has been programmed to need to be as close to Eduardo as possible. He cups a hand around Eduardo’s neck and brings him in for a kiss, open and filthy. Eduardo shudders and immediately slides a thigh in to part Mark’s legs, running a hand down Mark’s side to slip into the back of his pants and grasp the curve of his ass. Mark moans into the kiss, and scoots back onto the side of the sofa, pulling Eduardo with him so he can wrap his legs around Eduardo as he sucks bruising kisses into Mark’s neck. 

Mark fights his way past Eduardo’s shirt, ripping off more than one button in the process until Eduardo laughs into Mark’s shoulder and shrugs out of it himself. He immediately returns to Mark to tug at the hem of Mark’s tee and throws it across the room. Mark leans against Eduardo’s chest, tucked between his legs, and begins to press kisses around his nipples. He kisses all the way around one, and the other, before slowly taking one in his mouth and lapping at it while tugging away at Eduardo’s pants. Eduardo whines, canting his hips forward and Mark can feel the damp heat of his erection through his pretentious silk boxers. 

“Shh,” he says, running a hand down Eduardo’s side and into the boxers before dropping them to the floor. He leans back to admire his work – Eduardo, flushed and frantic, the most beautiful sight in the world. One only Mark would ever get to see, if he had anything to say about it.

Eduardo narrows his eyes and begins pouting. “This seems a little unbalanced,” he says suspiciously, and before Mark realizes what’s about to happen, he has been tackled against the sofa. They lie, panting, in a heap, and Eduardo is kissing his way down Mark’s skinny, unimpressive - _spectacular,_ Eduardo would argue – chest.  
Eduardo peers at Mark with a mischievous glint in his eyes and bends down to nose softly against Mark’s crotch. The moan Mark makes echoes throughout the empty house and sends shiver up and down his spine. Eduardo chuckles and, carefully, takes the button of Mark’s shorts into his clever mouth and slips it through the buttonhole. 

_“Fucking shit,”_ Mark breathed reverently. “Wardo…” 

He is unable to finish his sentence as Eduardo wraps a hand around himself and begins to slowly stroke as he resumes his mission and sets his teeth to pulling down the zipper of Mark’s cargo shorts. Mark thinks, vaguely, in a far-off part of his brain that isn’t currently overridden by lust that this has got to be one of the hottest things he’s ever seen and he’s not even positive what’s going on. 

Suddenly a shrill ringing noise pierces the air and Eduardo pulls with a sigh. Mark reaches after with grabby hands, trying to bring him back. “God, Wardo, are you serious?” he whines as Eduardo checks his phone. 

“Sorry, _querido,_ it’s important.”

“Again?” Mark asks meanly. 

Eduardo smiles distractedly as he tugs his pants back on and hurries out of the room. “There’s Thai in the kitchen if you want it,” he whispers, hand on the mouth piece. “I shouldn’t be long.” 

Mark goes to bed sulking, curled around a pillow, the sounds of Eduardo’s voice floating up from downstairs. 

*

The next morning Mark storms into his office early, and locks the door behind him. He grabs a Red Bull from his refrigerator, pulls his noise-cancelling headphones from a drawer, and codes for eleven hours until Chris has security take down the door. 

“This isn’t healthy, Mark,” he says seriously as Sarah fusses around the room, picking up Red Bull cans and opening the blinds. “You have to talk to him. Just ask Wardo what’s wrong. Anything that he says has to be better than this. You’re in limbo and it’s not doing either of you any good.”

Mark knows he’s wrong, almost everything Eduardo could say would probably be worse than this, but what the hell. Chris calls him a car because he’s been deemed unfit to drive and he stares out on the streets of Palo Alto, already making plans for what to do after they’re done. 

Eduardo is sitting in their formal parlor. They never use it; Mark’s never understood the point of it and would have turned it into another study if Eduardo hadn’t stopped him. It’s off the entranceway and has unnecessarily fancy chairs that aren’t comfortable and a beautiful antique piano Eduardo inherited from his grandmother. 

Mark stands in the doorway. “I think you should get the house.”

Eduardo’s head snaps up. “What?”

“When we break up. That’s what this has all been, hasn’t it? You’re easing out, or seeing someone new, or maybe – a realtor or something so when you dump me you can cut out right away but I wanted to let you know that wasn’t necessary because you can have the house.”

Eduardo looks stricken. “Mark-"

“I know I bought it before we were together, but you put most of the work into it, and I’ll transfer the deeds to your name. I don’t care.” He turns and walks toward the staircase, heart beating wildly. 

He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears Eduardo run up behind him. “Wait! Mark!”

He stares at the upper landing. He hadn’t expected Eduardo to put up a fight about this, although he’s not sure why. He challenges Mark about everything else. It was one of the reasons Mark loves him. “I want the furniture from my study,” he says, “and the bookcase my grandfather left me. Also the Xbox. You can have everything else.”

Slim fingers wrap around his wrist, anchoring him to the spot. “Mark,” Eduardo says desperately, “can you please look at me?”

Mark stares stubbornly at the landing. He is determined not to crack.

“Why?”

“Because I want to talk to you.” Eduardo’s voice is quiet and it is that that gets Mark. 

Mark turns, slowly. Eduardo is a step below him and is staring at him with a wild-eyed, frantic sort of expression. “Mark,” he says carefully, “will you come to dinner with me?”

It occurs to Mark that it serves him right, after all he had said and done to others over the years, that in this, one of his most vulnerable moments, Eduardo has chosen to be cruel. “You’ve never been a funny person, Wardo,” he says coldly, and yanks his arm free before running up the stairs and into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

Mark presses a finger to his temple, trying to understand what he’s just done. It doesn’t help, so he decides to lay flat on the floor and put a pillow over his head. He figures that if he’s lucky, it might smother him. 

“Mark,” Eduardo calls through the door. “Mark, please talk to me.”

Mark folds his arms over the pillow and tries to wait it out. Eduardo is a good person, he knows. He needs to make sure that there aren’t any ruffled feathers, that everyone is going to come out of this okay. But eventually he will get tired and leave and Mark can make his escape. 

“This is my fault, Mark,” Eduardo says. He sounds like he’s crying. Mark tries not to hear it. “I was distracted. I was – fuck – I was planning something for you. A dinner, tonight.”

Mark pokes his head out from the pillow, but he keeps it close. Just in case. “Why?” he asks. 

There is a long pause. “Please open the door, Mark.”

Mark sits up and leans forward, resting his head against his knees as he thinks. He isn’t sure what’s happening, and that frightens him. He had wanted to get through this and get out as quickly as he could before getting to the nearest hotel and collapsing. But this is new and he’s not entirely sure what to make of it. What could possibly be so special about a dinner that it would require that much time and planning? Mark opens his mouth to call Eduardo on his bullshit, to tell him that he doesn’t like to be lied to, and to go fuck himself, when he’s interrupted.

“Mark.” Eduardo’s voice breaks, and he sounds broken, like Mark _broke him_ and Mark can’t. He crawls toward the door and pushes it open. 

Eduardo is sitting on the other side, Indian-style, staring at the ground. In front of him is a small light blue box. 

“I had this big thing planned,” he says, not looking up. “Come to think of it, you would have hated it.” He gives a shaky laugh, and rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. 

Mark stares at Eduardo. He can fathom a guess as to what the box is, but what’s important right now is Eduardo, hunched in front of him, looking younger than the day they met – young and scared and fragile, like a single blow could shatter him across the floor. 

“Wardo,” he says softly, and lays a hand on Eduardo’s. He scoots closer so their knees are touching. 

Eduardo still stares at the box, sitting between them. “We were going to go to that Italian restaurant you like downtown. There’s a guitar player and flowers and – I’m an idiot, Mark. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was – I’m sorry.”

He starts to get to his feet, but Mark pulls him down. Once he’s sure Eduardo’s not moving again, he takes his hand off Eduardo’s and reaches for the box.

“Mark, come on, you don’t have to –" Eduardo starts, but he falls silent at the look Mark shoots him.

The ring is beautiful. It’s a simple platinum, with three bands linked together. On the inside is an engraving that Mark can’t read so he lifts it out of the box and tries to remember how he used to breathe, how the process works, exactly, because he’s having trouble remembering. 

_Today, tomorrow, and the day after,_ it says.

“Ask me,” he says suddenly.

Eduardo looks up. “What?”

“I want you to ask me. Say your speech or whatever. Give it to me, I’m ready, I want to hear it. Ask me.”

Eduardo bites his lip, searching Mark’s face. Something there makes him grin and he cups Mark’s face in his hand before grabbing the ring and pulling Mark to his feet. “Stand here,” he instructs. “Try to look shocked with the surprise of it all.”

Mark rolls his eyes but can’t help smiling at the sudden energy Eduardo has again. 

Eduardo wipes his face with the back of his sleeve, sniffs once, then nods. “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He gets down on one knee in front of Mark and takes his hands. “Mark,” he says seriously. “We’ve taken a long time to get to where we are today. But you have been the most important person in my world since we met at Harvard, ten years ago today.” 

“Wardo, you’ve got to be kidding,” Mark interrupts. “Why the hell would you remember that, what’s wrong with you – "

“Shush!” Eduardo says sternly. “I wrote it in my planner. You were noteworthy to me. Now shut up and listen.”

Mark does his best.

“You are the most important person in my world,” Eduardo continues. “You’re brilliant, and bitingly funny, and you have this way of trying to hide how much you care about people. You amaze me every day. And, if you’ll let me, I would like to spend the rest of my life trying to make you feel as happy as you make me.”

“Yes,” Mark says and tugs on Eduardo’s hand to pull him up.

“I’m not done, Mark!” Eduardo mock-scowls up at him. “Mark Zuckerberg, will you marry me?”

“You yelled at me for that?” Mark asks disbelievingly. “You really had to get in that one sentence, you didn’t think I understood until that part?” 

Eduardo laughs, bright and happy. “It’s tradition, and you told me to ask you.”

“Fine. Yes. Was that okay that time?”

Eduardo is on him in a heartbeat, pushing him against the doorframe. “It was perfect,” he says seriously and Mark would make some sort of scathing comment about the cheesiness of it all, but now Eduardo is carefully sliding the ring on Mark’s finger and cradling his hand like its spun glass and he can’t stop staring at it. 

“Oh,” he says stupidly, and Eduardo laughs again and kisses him. 

“Wait!” Mark says, several minutes later and Eduardo lifts his head from Mark’s stomach with a pout. “I forgot something, hold on.” Mark pads over to the closet, shedding what’s left of his shirt in the process.

“Why?” Eduardo whines, flopping against the mattress dramatically. 

“It’s not as fun when it’s you, is it?” he calls over his shoulder as he digs through the closet. Eduardo throws the broken alarm clock across the room and misses by a good five feet as it crashes into the bathroom. 

Mark emerges from the closet clutching a cigar box and snickering. “It’s a good thing I didn’t have my heart set on an MLB star,” he says as he climbs back onto the bed and Eduardo huffs loudly, pulling the sheets over his head.

After a furiously fought tickle war, of which Mark is obviously the winner because he is a natural winner and _beating someone with a pillow is clearly grounds for disqualification, Eduardo, I mean, come on_ \- he remembers his original purpose and sits cross-legged on the bed, arranging Eduardo to sit across from him, mimicking their positions from before. 

“Stay here,” he says firmly. Eduardo nods and makes a show of putting his hands in his lap. Mark reaches across the bed to grab the cigar box from where it fell before and rifles through it for a moment before pulling out a small jewelry box and handing it to Eduardo. 

“I’ve been saving this for a while,” he says nervously. Eduardo face goes sort of slack, and his breath hitches as he takes the box from Mark. 

“Is this - ?” he asks tremulously, staring down at it. 

“You could always open it,” Mark replies sarcastically. Eduardo smiles and opens the box, pulling out a gold ring with a silver band in the middle. 

“How long have you had this?” he asks quietly as he turns the ring over in his fingers.

“I bought it the week you agreed to move in,” Mark replies. “I never – I didn’t want to push, before you were ready, but. I was there. I’ve always been there, so.” 

Eduardo turns it over in his hand, face inscrutable. Mark wishes he knew what Eduardo was thinking, or if he’s just ruined this. He takes the ring back and grabs Eduardo’s left hand, pushing the ring on. 

“Where are you, Wardo?” he asks after another minute passes and Eduardo is still staring at his hand. 

Eduardo looks up, startled. “Sorry, it’s just – sorry. Mark, you’re really incredible, you know that?”

Mark grins, pleased with himself. “Yeah, I know.”

Eduardo barks out a laugh and puts the ring on, pulling Mark in with his other hand for a kiss. 

No phones are answered that night. Or the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone's curious, this is the ring I had in mind for Mark: http://www.tiffany.com/Shopping/Item.aspx?fromGrid=1&sku=GRP01741&mcat=148204&cid=288222&search_params=s+5-p+2-c+288222-r+101287466+0+101424822+101323340-x+-n+6-ri+-ni+0-t+
> 
> And this is the ring I picked for Eduardo: http://www.cartier.us/#/media/images/show-me/product-visuals/b4052200_1-png?view=1&return=show-me/jewelry/b4052200-trinity-wedding-band
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at abravelittletoaster


End file.
